


Under The Stars

by Apieceofurmind



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Smut, Not A Fix-It, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apieceofurmind/pseuds/Apieceofurmind
Summary: They say falling in love is a blessing not many receive. They claim that not every love is meant to be. They swear that pure love is the rarest of the rare. Steve and Bucky were lucky to have found each other, fallen in the purest, deepest kind of love. They knew they were meant to be. Like the sun to the planets and air to living beings, they needed each other.But in the homophobic era that they were born into, they were just not meant to be. They weren't allowed to hold hands, kiss, make love or be in love.But they were determined to change that...





	Under The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: GROSS MISUSE OF POETIC LIBERTIES AND CREATIVE FREEDOM..... xD XD XD XD

The pitter patter of raindrops is constant and lingering, their presence on his skin a tad bit annoying. It’s been showering for the past hour or so, but it’s only gotten worse in the fifteen minutes he’s been a victim of its assault. He pulls his tattered coat closer to his frail body, tries unsuccessfully to keep the biting cold off his pale skin and to keep the water away from his lungs, but the harm has already been done. He can feel goose bumps rising along his body, a cough trapped in his lungs and a cold tingling his nose. He can feel the oncoming bout of fever and taste the disgusting medicine at the back of his tongue. He knows his immunity is just another joke the world played on him, and it hurts every time he’s reminded of that. Every time his chest rattles under the chilling water of the monsoon rain and his lungs work extra hard to draw some resemblance of air into them, he thinks about what he’d have given to be like everybody else. What he’d do to be a little taller, a bit more muscular and a tad bit healthier.

 

He frowns a bit at that thought and shakes his head. there’s no need to open that can of worms. Instead he focuses on keeping the rain out of his eyes and off his hair. He thinks about getting home and sinking into their ratty couch, soaking in the feeble warmth of their apartment. Hot cocoa is a farfetched dream, but maybe he can make do with a hot glass of water and pretend it’s hot chocolate. Cuddle up to Bucky under a worn blanket and have the illusion of shared heat; considering he has no heat to share. But it’s all in his head and these thoughts are only safe in his head. Thoughts about Bucky, the life they lead behind the closed door and bolted windows of their apartment is a beautiful secret in a dirty safe. He tries not to think about that too. In a different world, maybe even a time, they’d to be able to do it without fear, without shame, without the looming threat of imprisonment and isolation. Maybe in a different, better world he’d have been able to be himself without the threat of death itself.

 

He's almost at the curb of their dilapidated apartment building when he hears it. It’s not a sound uncommon in the poorer neighbourhoods around them but it still makes Steve’s blood run cold and his temper flare hot. It’s a plea for help, a plea to be saved and Steve’s never been very good at ignoring them. Despite the loud prattling of raindrops on the concrete ground and Steve's poor hearing, he still hears it, a wounded huff of breath, and it makes his heart thud uncomfortably. It's a call for mercy, a heart wrenching sob that resounds from the alley a little farther away and into Steve's heart. A little breathless, very much desperate and so very pained. And he cannot help his immediate need to make it stop, to answer it, to save it.

As he pauses to hear it, the sobs seem to amplify. Instead of one voice, he hears two, anxious and hurt, whimpering and moaning. His heart clenches in his chest at the voices and he fists his palms instinctively. He's not going to stand here and let some goons beat up people, the rain, cold and his own shuddering breath be damned.

 

With purpose in his eyes and gait, he runs into the garbage strewn alley, the rain seeming to have given way to his righteous anger. He stands at the end of the alleyway and looks in.

 

There are three men, big, burly, ugly and in their early forties, beating up a couple of men around the same age as Steve himself. The men on the ground look like death itself: broken, bruised and bloodied as hell but they still kept pleading. They plead for mercy, for compassion, a little reprieve, but the men are merciless, kicking them over and over again and spitting on them every time they try to help themselves up. Steve closed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. His fists clenched and his eyes watered a bit as his gut clenched at the sight.  

 

He could never understand how man could be so cruel, so ruthless in the treatment of his fellow men. How he could become an animal in a split second and bring pain hurt to others but still manage to walk upright with his head held high. He could never understand how he demanded respect from all around him when he himself never gave respect to anyone. He couldn’t grasp how he could act all sanctimonious on Sunday morning and become sacrilegious by Sunday evening.  He couldn’t understand their need to pick on the poor, the weak and women to establish their masculinity, their power or how it factored whatsoever in their definition of manhood.

 

But he was not one of them, had never been and wasn’t going to be. He was not going to participate in it but neither was he going to stand here and let them be animals. There was no way he could take on all of them at the same time, but god forbid he not try. He'll definitely try, and he'll definitely fail but it may save someone's life and that's all that matters.

 

All that should matter. He squares his shoulders and raises his hands to his face, fists clenched hard and knuckles white, ready to throw a punch or a dozen.

 

"Disgusting fags." One of the men remarks and spits at one of the men at his feet. He kicks the man in the jaw and he whimpers in pain, his body broken enough to not move more than inch, even if it meant moving away from his tormentor.

And he was not the only one who stopped moving, Steve did too. He froze on the spot, his palms unfurling and dropping down to his sides. His mouth fell open and his eyes filled with tears. He felt like he couldn't move an inch anymore, like the blows had been received by his own body and not that of two strangers. He felt the need to cry and run, like the taunts and abuses were hurled at him and not at the two strangers. He felt dirty and ashamed, like he was the one being spat on, not the two strangers.

 

Because Steve was no different from the men on the garbage floor. This fight was no longer about the two men, it wasn't about Steve either, this fight had become much bigger than them. This fight was for all of them. it was for all the people who got beat up in alleys and sidewalks, it was for all the people who got arrested and punished, it was all the people who are ashamed of themselves, who are ashamed to love whom they please and are not given an opportunity to be themselves. It’s for those people who are beaten into shape to conform to society’s heteronormative rules.

And so, Steve took a deep breath, blinked away his tears and clenched his fists. He shook the water out of his hair and wiped away stray water drops off his face. He pulled his fists up in front of his face and charged into the alley.

 

"Stay the fuck away from them, you assholes! Or I'll make you."

 

 ***

 

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief as the Mr Gregory announced the end of the day. The work had been far more hectic this preceding week and rumour was that it would remain so for another month or so. The work had doubled and the heat of Brooklyn had not made it easier. Bucky was drenched in sweat and smelled worse than he looked: a day’s soot, dirt and grime plastered to every inch of his body. And the sudden rain had also not helped in the least, adding humidity, wetness and blurry vision to already existing problems of back pain, fatigue and possible cramps. As crucial as these wages were to his household, the body numbing labour at the docks did make him feel like he was about to fall over and die.

 

But he still does it with a cheerful smile and a twinkle in his eye. Because extra work means maybe a cup of hot cocoa for Steve and him to share, curled up under their tattered blanket, nestled in their old, battered couch. And at the end of the day that’s all Bucky wants. He wants to return home to Steve and see his face light up at the sight of hot cocoa, wants to feel the warmth he always sees when Steve smiles, wants to hear Steve thank him in that breathless, sweet voice of his. And if all that is possible with a few hours of hard labour, then he’d do it. Do it with a goddamn grin and cheerful dance.

 

Bucky quickly wrapped up his work and walked up to Mr Gregory for his daily wages and the overtime pay. The older gentleman smiled at him and ruffled his greasy hair fondly, having grown up next to George Barnes and having seen Bucky growing up. He smiled back at the man, collected his wage and left the dock with a whistle on his tongue and song in his heart.

 

Bucky Barnes was a rich man at the moment, going home, and he was planning on spoiling his love rotten.

 

As soon as Bucky exited, he spotted his friend Philip leaning over a pretty dame on the sidewalk, his gaze steady on her face while she had her eyes averted. Fearing that Philip’s advances were unwanted, Bucky advanced on the couple only to stop a few feet from them when the woman giggled and leaned in to kiss Philip, flinging her hands around his neck and rising to her toes. Philip wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up, supporting her weight and letting her lean completely into him. Silently asking her to trust him, and she did.

 

 

Bucky looked away as the image burned in his gut and charred his heart. The sight of the tiny blonde dame and the slightly built brunette kissing on the sidewalk reminded him too much of himself and his love, of the love they're not allowed to have, of a love that is illegal, of a love that is a disease.

 

And he can't help but feel jealous of Philip, of the dame, of every ‘normal’ person in Brooklyn, hell the entire world, because they get to have everything he can't. They get to hold hands when they walk down the streets, kiss each other stupid on the sidewalk, go on cute dates and dinners, marry each other, have children and built a home together. They get to have the all-perfect-American-white-picket-fence-dream that Bucky cannot have even have in his wildest dreams. Can’t even think about outside the four walls of their ramshackle apartment. Because it is dangerous, illegal, _wrong_.

 

But he still wants to get angry at all of them. wants to rip their dreams and hopes apart because he cannot have any of that. because he can't do any of that with his love, with his Steve. He can't hold Steve's hand when they walk past their favourite bakery or park, can't kiss him on the sidewalk just because the sun makes his hair look golden and he looks like the prettiest angel, can't take Steve out on dates or dinners to celebrate their love, to celebrate them as they grow older around each other, year after year. He can't marry Steve, have children with him or build a home with him. He can't have the American dream because his dreams are colored in sin, because the goldens and blues of Bucky's lives are intertwined with the browns and greys of Steve's, a man's. Because Bucky’s dreams are not just his own, they are Steve’s too. They’ll never come true because there is no woman for Bucky to love, only a man who has taught him what love is. Bucky’s dream is illegal and dirty because he loves with his eyes, his heart and his very soul and not with his mind or what’s between his legs.

 

Because the dream is not about love, it's about society. And neither of them has any place in that society. Neither of them has ever fit and with each passing day the gap between them and that society increases, each day reminds them of how _wrong, ill_ and _diseased_ they are. And such men have no place in the respectable society, in any society.

 

He's not allowed to love Steve, not allowed to hold him in his arms, not allowed to kiss him goodnight and not allowed to show him how much he's loved. But neither of them is any good at doing what they're supposed to and not doing things they aren't supposed to. Steve picks fights in alleyways and behind theatres, Bucky finishes those fights and patches him up. They kiss each other in the dark of the night and hold each other in the safety of their home. They hold hands behind the cover of their curtains and love each other in the protected cocoon of their sheets. There are good at not doing what they’re supposed to do, but they are really good at loving each other cause that's what they were meant to do.

 

He turns back and starts walking home, ignoring the rain pelting and dripping down his face and chin, intermixed with his tears. He leaves his coat unbuttoned, ignoring the cold that settles over his skin, intermixed with the ice in his heart.

 

 ***

 

"What the hell happened to you Stevie? Who did this?"

 

The first thing that Bucky sees when he enters his apartment is a broken Steve on the couch. His clothes were in tatters and his body seemed to have been put through a blender. There was a huge gash on his forehead, a split lip, his arm was twisted in a way it was not supposed to be and the way he lay told Bucky that there had to be at least a few minor cuts and multiple blue-black bruises. He threw away his coat and rushed to the blonde’s side, running his hands carefully along his pale face and fighting the urge to cry.

He unbuttoned whatever was left of Steve’s shirt and clenched his eyes shut at the sight of the purple skin. Steve’s pale, beautiful skin, unblemished so far except a few freckles, was a mess of bruises- some a dreadful purple, some blue and some red and angry looking. He looked at Steve's face, the hooded eyes and the split lip and had to get a grip on himself. He couldn’t get angry at Steve, couldn’t shake him up or knock some goddamn sense into him. Not when Steve was already looking half dead.

 

 

_Oh god No. No. No. Not dead. Not him. Please not him. Not now. Not ever._

Because Bucky doesn’t know what he will do with himself if he loses Steve, what he will do if Steve dies because Bucky was not there to watch his back and finish the fight he started. Doesn’t know how he’ll wake up without seeing Steve's beautiful face, how he’ll go to sleep without clinging onto him. Doesn’t know what is his purpose in life, if it isn’t looking out for Steve's punk self, because that’s all he’s done all his life.

 

 

 He can’t lose Steve. Because he’ll lose everything he’s loved, he’ll lose himself, he’ll lose everything he’s ever lived for.  

 

 

“Stevie, wake up, love. Please. Open your eyes. Please. Can’t lose you. Please.”

 

He places a hesitant kiss to Steve's forehead and closes his eyes. He can’t even bear to look at him, knowing those gorgeous baby blues will not be looking back at him. Memories of a long-gone pneumonia and Father McCleary standing by Steve's bedside pass through his mind but he pushes them away as fast as he can. He can’t bear to even remember it, much less dwell on it.   

 

“I’m here Bucky, I’m right here.” Bucky's eyes flutter open as he scrambles upright to look at Steve. Steve's got his eyes open, barely open but open all the same, and he seems to be in a great deal of pain. He winces as he tries to move but Bucky stills him immediately, gripping his shoulders lightly and forcing him to lie in the position that causes least discomfiture.

 

“Oh god Steve. I thought I had lost you this time.” He moves some of Steve's damp hair away from his bleeding forehead and looks into his hazy eyes. Steve smiles back at him and closes his eyes, a small sigh falling from his lips at Bucky's hand in his hair.  

 

“Nah. Can’t get rid of me so easily. I’m too strong for that.” He whispers softly, his eyes closed as he moves his head further into Bucky’s touch. Bucky smiles at the little punk and kisses his nose lightly, making Steve giggle quietly.  

 

“Yeah. Yeah. You are. Now don’t talk too much and let me take care of you.”

 

Steve nodded slowly and allowed Bucky to pick him up. He winced every time Bucky's hand brushed a bruise, but didn’t make a single sound to let Bucky know how much it hurt. Bucky walked with Steve into their closet-sized bathroom and gently sat Steve down on the toilet lid. He softly kissed Steve's forehead and removed his arms from around his neck. He placed them in Steve's lap and moved back, assessing every injury and cataloguing everything he would need to treat them with.

 

 

Steve's arm was definitely broken and he would have to reset it. In all of Steve's injuries that Bucky has treated, broken anything is his Achilles heel. Resetting means putting Steve in more pain than he is and that sets Bucky on fire. The mere thought of causing Steve pain is enough to make Bucky want to rip himself apart. But he knows he has to do it. So, he does.

 

They’ve got bandages, gauze and ointment for all his other cuts and bruises and even the horrible gash on his forehead doesn’t look like it needs stitches. At least that’s what he thinks, he’s no nurse like Sarah.

 

“I’ll be right back, Stevie. Sit tight okay? And keep your eyes open. Please.”

 

Steve nods quietly and gives Bucky a small smile. Bucky can see his struggle to keep his eyes open, but there's nothing he can do. Another thing Bucky can’t do anything about! Seems like there's a lot of them these days.

 

He leaves the bathroom and makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing the cocoa from where he dropped it along with his coat, and starts making a cup for Steve. This is not how he imagined them this evening, but he's honestly not surprised. Steve's got a way of keeping Bucky on his toes, keeping him guessing and that’s one of the things about Steve that drives Bucky crazy. Nothing is as expected with him, things can go south at the drop of a hat and Bucky enjoys that. Enjoys how Steve can’t live his life according to any plan and dives headfirst into any thought without thinking it through.

 

But on days like these, where he's patching up an injured Steve, he can’t help but think that he can help prevent it. Can tell Steve to stop doing this, stop putting himself in danger. That’ll end in two ways. Either Steve listens to Bucky and becomes like all other lads out in Brooklyn, sombre and detached or he ends up leaving Bucky for asking him to change, for asking him to become someone he is not. Bucky doesn’t know which one is worse.

 

 

He carries the cup back to Steve and hands it over with a grin on his face. Steve takes it without a word and only looks up at Bucky when the smell of hot cocoa reaches his weak senses.

 

“Hot cocoa? Bucky, we can’t afford this.”

 

“Yes, we can. I got paid extra for working overtime. Our rent is covered and we will have food for the week. And if you stop getting your ass beat every day, we can save money on the medical supplies and instead buy some good quality coffee.” He answers, his voice getting all cheeky during the last sentence, even though his stomach wants to hurl. Steve laughs softly at that and takes a sip of his cup.

 

“Shut up. You love going to buy this shit cause Betty always gives you free Vaseline ‘for your dry lips’.”

 

His voice goes unusually high during the last part, an imitation of poor Betty and it makes Bucky chuckle. Poor, innocent betty doesn’t know what they get up to with that Vaseline, but it sure as hell ain’t for Bucky's lips. Well, what she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her.

 

“You love it, doll.” He teases back with a leer and Steve immediately looks up from his cup. He eyes Bucky up and down and smirks, the expression out of place on his injured face.

 

“Oh yes I do.”

 

 

They laugh at that and Steve hides his amused expression behind his cup. Bucky shakes his head fondly at his boyfriend and moves over to retrieve their first aid kit from under the sink. He holds the box in one hand and moves to wet their towel with the other.

 

“Clothes off Stevie.”

 

“Jeez, Buck. At least make it sound a bit more romantic.”

 

 

When Bucky gives him a completely unamused look, Steve's starts stripping immediately. Bucky crouches in front of him and starts cleaning the wound with water, keeping his hands steady yet firm and not backing even when Steve winces and Bucky feels tears prick his eyes.

 

Once he deems the cut clean, he dabs at it again with a little alcohol, closing his eyes tight to prevent tears when Steve cries out a bit. Once it’s clean and they both have regained their facilities, Bucky applies ointment to it and patches it up neatly.

 

 

Similarly, he cleans out Steve's split lip and a similar gash on his hand that he missed during his initial assessment. He applies aloe Vera to his numerous bruises, bless Mrs Garner and her kindness, and finally brings his attention to his broken arm. He takes a gentle hold of the arm and waits for Steve to look him in the eye. Once baby blue eyes are fixed on his own, he waits for the blonde’s permission. Steve nods but doesn’t take his eyes off Bucky, his gaze as heavy on Bucky as his trust. Bucky takes a deep breath, waits for Steve to do the same and pulls Steve's arm back to its original position, just the way Sarah showed him. Steve clamps down on his lower lip to muffle his scream but Bucky hears him anyway, the scream reverberating in Bucky's gut and soul, ready to torture the next few night’s sleep.

 

 

He smiles at Steve and wraps the gauze around his arm, places a kiss to it, just to see Steve smile. And Steve does. Even beckons Bucky closer to press the softest kiss to his lips.

 

 

“Won’t you kiss it better, Buck?” he asks softly, his eyelashes fluttering with the attempt to keep his eyes open. He leans forward and almost slumps into Bucky's arms, but Bucky holds him with a steady hand and gently lowers him till he can rest his head on Bucky's shoulder.

 

“Of course, my love. Always.”

 

And he does. He kisses the gash on Steve's forehead, his arm. Kisses along every bruise littered around on his back, starting from the nape of his neck and down to the dimples in his back. He places soft kisses to the bruise on his collar bone and butterfly kisses to the bruises around his ribs. He trailed kisses down his legs, starting from his jutting hipbones, down to his right toes and then moved on and did the same to the left leg. He takes his own time kissing every bit of Steve's skin, even the non-bruised porcelain and doesn’t let up until every inch is covered. Steve's looks at him with something close to reverence in his eyes and Bucky mirrors the expression. He moves forward and cups Steve's face in his hands, draws Steve closer with his eyes and just holds him there.

 

 

He tries to take in Steve's beauty, his gorgeous eyes, his pink, pouty lips. But all the time in the world is not enough to appreciate the beauty that is Steve Rogers and Bucky knows this. So, he leans in and kisses him on the lips, keeps the kiss feather light keeping in mind the injury, but still tries to put all his passion into it. Before parting he dips his tongue in lightly, just to taste the cocoa and then pulls back just to hear Steve whine.

 

 

“Why’d you stop? Don’t stop, Buck.”

 

Bucky smiled at his whiny best friend and picked him up in his arms. He carried a still complaining Steve back to their couch and sat with him still cuddled in Bucky's arms, sitting in Bucky's lap. As soon as they sit, Steve settles himself more comfortably and moulds his body to Bucky's, perfectly melting into his arms.

 

“Get well soon and I’ll put our Vaseline to good use.” Bucky whispers into Steve's ears and pulls a full body shiver and whine from the blonde’s lips. Steve pouts at Bucky but he refuses to do anything about Steve's complains. Finally, they settle down and fall silent, the rain the only sound around them, but neither of them manage to quieten the voices in their head. 

 

“What happened today Stevie? Who’d you get in a fight with?” It’s Bucky who breaks the silence that had blanketed them. He looked down at Steve who seemed surprised to be pulled out of their peaceful reverie.

 

“Just some assholes, you know. The regular Brooklyn bunch.” Steve shrugged his shoulders and refused to meet Bucky's eyes. His lips curled in a humourless way and he nestled closer to Bucky, hid his face in Bucky's shirt.

 

Bucky's known Steve since he was six. Has known him through his father’s abuse to the schoolyard bullies. Has seen him skip puberty and get rejected by every girl in school. Has seen him fall apart when his mother died and stay strong when he was on his own deathbed. He knows everything that makes Steve, Steve. Knows his signs and tells, knows when he is lying and when he is a little boy scout.

 

This is definitely not one of those times. Steve's lying through his teeth, something he never does with Bucky. It’s a little surprising and a whole lot of pain. But the brunette doesn’t let it show on his face, just gives him a small smile and holds him a little tighter. 

 

“Just some regular assholes huh? What’d they do this time? Speak during a movie?”

 

“Not that grave!” Steve joked weakly, still not meeting Bucky’s eyes, “just troubling some lads.”

 

His avoidance to meet Bucky's eyes hurts like a bitch. Hurts in places he never knew existed inside him. And again, it is not surprising because Steve does have a flair of discovering something new about Bucky all the time. When it’s not his deeply protective side, then it’s the sappy romantic one. If it’s not how much he loves dominating in the bedroom, then it’s how much he excels in the kitchen. If it’s not how much he can love Steve, then it’s how much Steve can hurt him.

 

“How young were the lads?” Bucky's attempt at nonchalance fails, his tone too tight and angry, just on the verge of hurt.

 

“Around our age.” Steve replies immediately, like he can sense Bucky's frustration. Like he can smell the acidic air around them.

 

And the words bring forth all those feelings. Men their age don’t need protection. And not from Steve. He knows it’s not Steve's fault, it’s a cruel joke of the universe, but Bucky's never seen a lad in Brooklyn as small as Steve. If anyone deserves protection, it’s Steve Rogers, but he’ll kill anybody who tries. 

 

 

“Goddamnit Steve! Lads our age can take care of themselves. You can’t go fighting everyone’s battles for them, especially not if it’s going to kill you.”

 

“It wasn’t a fair fight Buck, two guys against three. The poor men stood no chance.” Steve's exasperated and Bucky knows this. He wants Bucky to let this go, but he can’t. Not when he doesn’t know why Steve's lying, why Steve thought men their age need his protection. It wasn’t just an everyday fight, it was different, he can tell. He needs to know why it was different. Why Steve needs to lie to Bucky about it.

 

“And you’re sure they were the good guys? It wasn’t how you get into a scuffle with a bully and I join in? That is also two guys against one, Steve.” Bucky’s tone is getting angrier with each word and he hates himself for it. They don’t get angry at each other, don’t have fights like this. The whole world is against them and all they have is each other. And they can’t lose each other, so they don’t fight. But this is closely tethering to a fight, a fight neither of them want or need at this moment.

 

 

“It wasn’t like that Buck. These lads were not the bad guys. I know they weren’t.” the exasperation in his voice is building, and so is something akin to grief, Steve balancing precariously on the edge of his fight or flight instinct. But Bucky doesn’t back down either, his stubbornness forged of the same metal as his boyfriend’s.

 

“How the hell-”

 

“Because they were like us. Just like us Buck, in fucking love with somebody they weren’t supposed to be.” Steve yells and Bucky freezes, the words still sitting right at the edge of his tongue. He stares at Steve, nestled right under his arm, above his chest, not having moved an inch even through their argument. He stares in part wonder and part fear, part reverence and part besotted. He couldn’t believe his ears, couldn’t believe Steve. 

 

 

“I couldn’t stand there and watch them get hurt. I couldn’t stand there acting like those mean words didn’t apply to us, to me. They were just like us Buck, and I would never stand and watch someone hurt you, so how could I stand and watch somebody hurt them?”

 

Tears fled those beautiful blue eyes and Bucky immediately moved to wipe them off. He held Steve closer to himself and felt a few tears escape his own eyes. He cradled Steve's head in one hand and gently rubbed his back with the other, comforting Steve and himself in a single gesture. Their tears met on their journey down their bodies and mingled somewhere around their conjoined bodies. Just like their hearts, just like their souls.

 

“I’m sorry Stevie. I really am. For what happened to them and to you. I didn’t know, love. I’m so sorry. But it is what it is. The world is cruel to people like us and there’s nothing we can do about it, as much as I want to. But you did the right thing, like you always do. I’m proud of you, love. So goddamn proud.”

 

And it’s true, every word of it. He's so proud of his love, so proud of how strong he is, how brave. Bucky is proud of everything Steve is, everything he's made himself to be, but nothing makes Bucky prouder than knowing that Steve put somebody in their right place, stopped somebody from overstepping their boundaries and for putting some sense into assholes. It’s also true that none of this matters. Steve's one-man fight isn’t going to straighten out homophobes nor is it going to quell homophobia. There's nothing they can do to change the world, but they can hold the other close and protect each other.  

 

They are both quiet for some time, both taking time to let the thought sink in. To let the unspoken yet not unheard words soak the air around them. It’s been an eventful day for them both, questioning them and their choices in lives, where they’re going to go from here and for the first time in the day, they are getting a chance to sit down and think this through. 

 

 

“It shouldn’t be so, Buck. It’s love isn’t it? At the end of the day, we’re just two people in love. Why should it matter to anyone that we’re two men? It doesn’t concern them in the least. Who I love should be left to me, right? Not to all of them.” The soft-spoken words sit heavy in the already somber atmosphere around them. Steve looks up at Bucky and forces him to meet those hopeful blue eyes. Bucky looks into them, feels a little lost but still at home in them. He cups Steve's face gently in his palms and places a barely there kiss on his forehead. 

 

“I know, love. I’ve spent days and sleepless nights thinking about it. But it doesn’t matter what we think about it, what justification we give. We’re just not important enough for our words or thoughts to make a difference. All we can do is keep our heads down and hope to not get noticed, to not get killed.” It takes so much out of him to utter these words, to crush both his and Steve's dreams and hopes with his hefty words. But it’s true, there’s no reprieve to this, no way there is a happy ending to their love. It’s best to not hope, not give each other empty promises of a never there future.

 

They fall silent again.

 

“The lads, what happened to them? Are they...” Bucky can’t finish the question, isn’t even sure if he wants to know. But Steve understands, because he knows Bucky. So, he doesn’t let Bucky finish, answers him before he can complete the question.

 

“One of them didn’t make it. By the time Mr Turner found us, he’d… he left us. The other guy barely made it, but the moment he was barely coherent, the first thing he asked was about him. Killing him would’ve hurt him less, Buck, he… he just fell apart…”

 

And Bucky understands that. Can’t imagine what he’d do if he lost Steve like that. Can’t imagine what he’d do to the people who take Steve away from him. But he doesn’t say anything. Just holds a sobbing Steve closer to himself and quietly sheds some tears for the unfortunate lovers. He didn’t understand a lot of things about this world, but their cruelty is something he doesn’t even want to try and understand.

 

Steve's voice falls apart under the weight of his sobs, his cries. If Bucky thought he was crying earlier, then Bucky has no words for the breakdown Steve's having now. He turns Steve completely till he's straddling Bucky and wraps both arms around Steve's back, running soothing fingers through his golden hair and rubbing his back every time Steve's breath hitches.

 

The silence between them stretches on for long. They’re both lost in the sorrows of a couple they never got to meet, passengers of the same exclusive boat they were travelling on. People, who were somebody’s son, brother, friend, student, before they were homosexual. Somebody who had a life, a life snatched away from them because a few people couldn’t look past their sexuality when they saw him. Just because a few people couldn’t see that they were humans before they were queer. 

 

“Something on your mind too?” Steve asks quietly, his sobbing leaving behind a hoarse voice.

 

Bucky shakes his head and continues rubbing Steve's back. “Nothing. At least nothing important.” And it’s the truth. Bucky's been angry about not being able to take Steve on dates, when there are people being killed for being seen outside. There are real issues and Bucky's holding onto his petty ones.

 

At least Steve's alive. At least Bucky gets to hold him this close inside their home. At least he gets to patch Steve's up and take care of him. He's got no room to complain. He ought not to.

 

“Whatever it is tell me and let me be the judge of that Buck.” There's a finality in Steve's voice, a tone that leaves no room for argument. And so, Bucky caves.

 

“Really, it’s nothing, Stevie. Just saw Philip and his dame today.” The truth, half as it maybe.

 

“And?” the blonde still prompts. He raises his head from Bucky's chest and looks him in the eye, _don’t bullshit me_ clearly written in them.

 

“And? They’re allowed to be in love Stevie. They’re allowed to hold hands on the streets and kiss on the sidewalk and go on dates to Coney Island. They’re allowed to get married and take each other’s names and still walk with their head held high. They don’t have to worry about keeping the door locked when they sit too close or make sure the curtains are pulled tight when they go to sleep in the same bed. Their love is not illegal and nobody wants to kill them for being in love. And it makes me so angry. They are allowed everything we’re not and it isn’t even love with them. Philip was with another girl last week and will be with another next week. But that’s okay too as long as it’s not another man. But us? Stevie, I’ve loved you since 14 and I only plan on loving you till the day I die but that’s still wrong. It’s wrong and illegal and a fucking sin. But his promiscuity is not. Our love is illegal Stevie, whereas they’re allowed everything. It’s unfair Stevie, so goddamn unfair.”

 

 It’s like a dam breaking. All the thoughts, frustrations that have plagued him since morning crash ashore at the same time, bringing home everything the sea’s collected over the day. Voicing his feelings to Steve leaves him feeling refreshed and new, as if his body has actually given over half its worries to Steve, has entrusted him with all of Bucky's life-threatening secrets. And it actually has. Bucky's an open wound where Steve's concerned. Raw, vulnerable, there for him to see, prod and mend.

 

“I know Buck. I really do. But like you said, we’re nobodies and we can’t change anything. All we can do is hold the other while we still can and hope our love makes up for everything we can’t do.” Steve echoes back Bucky's words from earlier but they still feel different coming from him, like Bucky can actually believe them now. There's a way Steve convinces Bucky to do things, more often questionable than otherwise, and this feels like just another one of those instances. But Bucky still believes him, each time, every time, and this time is no different. He’ll listen to Steve, find hope in his words and follow him wherever he goes.

 

“It does Stevie. As long as you stay close to me, as long as I get to hold you and love you, it doesn’t matter if it’s Coney Island or our own couch.”  Because it actually does not.

 

And that puts a smile on Steve's face, vibrant and dazzling and Bucky unconsciously returns it. He's lost in the upturn of those lovely lips, at the small hint of tongue Steve's teasing him with, but still doesn’t miss the way Steve's eyes twinkle at his words, how close to tears he looks just at Bucky's words alone.  

 

“There you go, getting all sappy on me Barnes.”

 

“Well I know how much you love it, doll.”  Even though it’s teasing, the words are still true. Steve loves it when Bucky gets all romantic and makes deep confessions of love, of longing after Steve all these years and how Steve's the one for him. Gets all teary eyed when Bucky tells him how much he loves him, how he's the luckiest person in the world to be able to call Steve his and how he will sacrifice his life for Steve in a heartbeat, work himself to death if it means Steve has one more blanket for cold nights.

 

And that’s true as well. All of it. Bucky says it because it’s true. Steve loves them because he knows it’s true.

 

“Mm. I do. Now how about we go to bed, get under the covers, and you put me to sleep whispering sweet nothings in my ear?” Bucky chuckles quietly and Steve follows, resting his head on Bucky's shoulder and looking up at him from beneath his long, sinful lashes.

 

“You know you never fall asleep when I’m sweet talking you.” He replies while standing up and carrying Steve into their bedroom.  

 

“Hey, I can try.”

 

“Yes, you can, love. As many times as, you want.”  Because the more times Steve wants to try, the more times Bucky gets to tell him about how much he loves him, how beautiful Steve is, how the sky or ocean doesn’t match up to the blue of his eyes, how the red rose is not as red as his lips and how no artist could compare to his talent. He gets to tell Steve about how his body is so unique and touchable it makes Bucky’s mouth run dry, how he can’t get enough of their kisses, cuddles and late-night rendezvous. Gets to tell him how he loves Steve's fighting spirit and how he’s glad he's not the one Steve's picking fights against. Because Steve gets teary eyed at the end of every confession and maybe Bucky sheds a few tears, and they love it. 

 

 ***

 

“I swear to god; your lashes are longer and prettier than mine or any other girl’s. No wonder my brother fell head over heels for you. Look at you, you’re so pretty!”

 

Steve laughed at the accusing look in Rebecca’s eyes, her mouth twisted in a fake scowl. He was at Rebecca's apartment, the one she shared with her fiancé Malcolm, a poor ginger who was scared to death of her two elder brothers, more precisely her one elder brother and his best friend. They both were camped out on her comfy couch, huddled close together and nursing a mug of tea in their hands. There was a thin blanket wrapped around their legs and their weekly chatting session was in full swing.

 

Except the two of them, Rebecca is the only one who knows about them; the only one they trust. But the doesn’t mean he doesn’t regret it every now and then, especially when she reminds him of how pretty he is.

 

“Are you saying Bucky is only into me because I'm pretty? I don’t think he's that shallow! You think so low of your brother.” He even splays a hand on his chest for extra emphasis. Emphasis on how dramatic he is.

 

“Don’t you do that guilt thing with me. We both know my brother is a shallow asshole who’ll ditch you the second a prettier dame comes by.” She retorts cheekily and Steve may or not snort unattractively. Bucky is certainly going to ditch him if he hears that noise.

 

“But you just said I was the prettiest girl. So that means he’s stuck with me forever.” He sticks out his tongue and bats his eyelashes at her. She rolls her eyes at him, a move that’s very Bucky, and swats at his face.

 

“I said you’ve the prettiest lashes. Your face is pretty ugly. Don’t know what he sees in you. Big mouth and even bigger eyes.”

 

She winks at him and he wonders if the big mouth is a jab at his tetra weekly fight sessions or a euphemism for the less than innocent antics they get up to in the bedroom, but he's not going to ask. Rebecca for all her knowledge and involvement in their lives, is still Bucky's little sister and Steve's by extension, and the thought of having such a discussion with her is scary more than revolting. Not to mention Mrs Barnes will kill him, if he somehow manages to first escape Bucky's clutches.  

 

“All I hear is you still complimenting me. First my lashes, now my eyes? Oh god, Rebecca! Are you hitting on me? Me, your brother’s uh… your brother’s…” And just like that the jovial mood leaves him. All the teasing thoughts bid adieu and Steve's left plunging in despair like he's been for the past few days.

 

Coming over to Rebecca’s had been his escape, a way to not think about the last few shitty days. It had been a means to forget that he was a nobody in Bucky's life. There was no place for him there, no name or title for his presence. Steve was Bucky's best friend, no doubt about that, but beyond that who was he? He wasn’t Bucky's girl, his wife or significant other. He was Bucky's dirty secret; a man Bucky could love only in the dark. He didn’t even qualify as Bucky's lover, considering it would be an illegal thing. So, who was he in Bucky's life, if nothing but a constantly sick distraction and burden?

 

“My brother’s love. You're my brother’s love, Steve. His first and only love. Don’t you dare doubt that. Do you hear me? Or I’ll have to have the ‘younger sister talk’ with you.” Just like that, she answered his question. Silenced all his doubts and left no room for further uncertainties. Steve loves her, loves her like the little sister he never had.

 

“Don’t think that’s a thing. Never heard of it.” He replies with a cheeky grin, patting her head and adjusting the blanket around their legs. He places his empty mug down by the couch’s side and leans back with a more resigned look on his face.

 

“But yeah. I’m never gonna doubt it. I know he loves me; just don’t know why. He could have anybody in Brooklyn, hell probably all of New York, and he wants me. Why?”

 

He hates burdening others with his problems: his self esteem issues, low self confidence and his unwavering belief that one day Bucky is gonna wake up and realise the mistake he is making. But Rebecca is not just an ‘other’. Even though Bucky is his best friend, when it comes to their relationship, Steve's more comfortable discussing it with Rebecca. She knows the both of them well, individually and together, and despite the fact that she is Bucky's biological sister, she gives him an unbiased opinion every time. Not to mention, she loves taking on the role of Steve's relationship counsellor and getting all the scoop on their relationship.

 

“What do you mean why? Because you're the one he loves, Steve. All the dames in New York don’t mean a thing, because, you're the one he loves, the one he wants forever. He freaking wants to grow old with you, stupid. So, give him the dignity of his choice and stop questioning your relationship.” She finishes with a finality that means the end of this discussion, but Steve's refuses to give up.

 

“But that’s the thing, Becca. There's no forever for us, no growing old together. We’re not the leading couple in some cheesy romantic novel, we’re two men in love with each other in a time we’re not supposed to. There's no wedding forever, or ‘getting old together’ for us. There's basic survival and a minute chance of making it out alive. Got to see a couple who didn’t get that either.”

 

There’s that familiar bitterness growing in his chest. He hates the world, its horrible people and their self-absorbed laws. They don’t care about two lads in that lacklustre shit-hole apartment. They don’t care about the two men who lost each other in that alley. They don’t care about all the men being punished for ‘sinning’. All they care about is a book written centuries back and a God who apparently did not believe all that much in love. Instead of living in the now and letting people make their decisions for themselves, they lived by the rules of a Neanderthal society.

 

And that makes him angry. Makes him angrier than his little body can handle. Makes him angrier than being cursed with a little body, bad immunity and shitty father ever made him feel. Because this is not the world being cruel to him alone, this is the world denying Bucky his happiness; a crime Steve Rogers does not take kindly to. 

 

 

“Is that resignation I hear in your voice, Steve? Acquiescence coming from Steve ‘I'm gonna fight every injustice’ Rogers! I’ve known you for years Stevie, not only as my brother’s best friend, but also as one of my closest friends. I’ve known you through muddy knees at lunch to bruised knuckles in alleyways. You don’t give up, you don’t sit down and accept your fate. You stand up, put your fists up, run your big mouth and take it head on. And that’s what Bucky loves the most about you, what I love most about you. So, don’t sit here and give me all these bullshit reasons and excuses and take whatever little time you have with Bucky and make it count. Fight back Stevie, just like you always do. Be the most stubborn punk in all of Brooklyn, like Bucky says you are.” She gives him a pat on his back and a small smile. There's a fire burning behind her eyes, a fire he's seen in Bucky's eyes, a fire he's familiar with when it blazes in his core. He returns her smile, but the bitterness has set too deep in his gut, there's no fire that can dispel it now.

 

“He is the jerkiest jerk in all of Brooklyn too. He ever tell you that?” When she gives him a look for deflecting, he gets right back to it.

 

“I hear what you’re saying Becks, but there is no fighting anybody here. There's no one person I can throw my fists at and show the right path. I’d have to start at the church and work all the way down to Mrs Stone and her sanctimonious chat group. And that’s a lot of fighting, bruises and broken ribs and will for sure give Bucky a heart attack.”

 

She’s quiet for some time, for the first time since Steve walked into her apartment.

 

“You can’t fight everyone, but you can show him that he’d be worth it. You can show him that you’re willing to take on the risk of death for him. That you’re willing to sacrifice your goddamn life for him and your love. Can’t you do that, Steve? Can’t you show him, he's worth all this and some more?”

 

If he could he’d rip his heart out and give it to Bucky. He’d pluck the moon and stars out of the sky and lay them beneath Bucky's feet. He’d yell his love off rooftops and mountains. He’d give Bucky the world and some just like he deserves. But he can’t. He can’t do any of the above. He can’t even hold Bucky's hand without getting charged with a crime. He can’t tell the world how much he loves Bucky. Can’t show them how much he means to him. 

 

“Pretty sure he knows, Becks. That jerk knows how much power he wields over me and he thrives on it. But I understand what you’re talking about and I really want to do that. I really want to show him how much he means to me, how much I love him.” His cheeks glow red at the confession, while Rebecca downright swoons. “But I don’t know how.” He finishes lamely.

 

“Take him on a romantic date.” The enthusiastic look on her face almost made him wanna repeat his big speech about homophobia, again, but he held his tongue. Gave her the shorter version of the speech.

 

“Can’t. Will get killed, remember? Homophobia.”

 

“Hmm… he’ll only get killed if he goes with you. How about we send him on a date with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn?” her enthusiasm was apparently not curbed by Steve's words, but her brain activity had. She was making dumb suggestions.

 

Steve was as it is nervous and insecure about his relationship and Rebecca wanted to send Bucky on a date with a dame, not just any dame, but the prettiest on in Brooklyn!

 

“Yup. I can show him how much I love him by sending him on a date with the prettiest dame in Brooklyn! Such a brilliant plan, why didn’t I think of it! ‘Hey Bucky, I love you and want to show you how much I love you, so please go on this date with a girl and not me’. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”  his voice was slightly raised and his hands had curled into fists by his sides. Did she think this was a joke? Or did she want Bucky to move on, considering there was no happiness for Bucky with Steve?

 

“Shut up or so help me god, I’ll punch you in the face, Bucky’s anger be damned. We’re not sending Bucky on a date with any dame, we’re sending him on a date with you.” Yeah, of course. That made a hell of a lot sense.

 

“But I’m not a dame.” He deadpanned and she responded by giving him a sly smile.

 

“No, you're not. Not yet.” And that’s the scariest sentence Steve's heard in his life. That possibly can’t mean anything good and in the Barnes’ clan ‘bad’ is like really bad. They’ve got no reservations.

 

“Rebecca, kiddo, what’s going on in that head of yours?” God, he was shit sacred of the Barnes siblings and their weird ass thought processes. He said a prayer to the god he has not called upon in years and mentally squared his shoulders. His fight or flight mode was active.

 

“You sit still and let me work Rogers. I’ll make you the prettiest dame in Brooklyn.” She answers with conviction and stands up immediately, the blanket falling from their laps and pooling at her feet. Steve shakes his head at her but the moment she squints and glares at him, he sinks into the couch. 

 

_No. No. No. Hell no. She possibly can’t be saying what he thinks she’s saying. Cause that’s wrong. He’ll get killed for the shit she’s suggesting. Apparently, everything he does is a sure shot way to get him killed._

 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks meekly, his eyes probably resembling those of a hunted doe. There's no getting out of it if Rebecca Barnes has set her mind to something. She’s stubborn as hell, and that’s coming from Steve, and if she tells you to do something, you do it. Or she makes you do it. Steve is definitely speaking from experience when he says you should do it on your own and not wait for her to make you do it. Because then it gets really ugly, really quick.

 

“Do you see Bucky anywhere to care about what you want and do not want?” and just like that she won the argument. Even with Bucky to back him up, there was no chance of winning this argument, but, alone? Steve's lucky to lasted one question.   


Also, Steve was screwed. Big time screwed.

 

 ***

 

Bucky walked into the apartment building with a skip in his walk and a tune on his tongue. The song had been stuck in his head ever since he heard it that one time on the radio and it had been impossible to shake it ever since. He whistles it during work, while making dinner and more often than not hums it to sleep. It’s been a real parasite.

 

He takes two steps at a time and makes his way to the first floor where Rebecca’s apartment was located. He feels guilty about going to see her, since he’s not visited her since her engagement a couple of months back. She’s his little sister and he knows he should at least come visit her once in a while as a common courtesy, but he's been busy, very busy. He's got a full-time job, extra work at that job and Stevie at home. He is always dead tired when he reaches home and then it is a herculean task to even think of leaving the comfort of Steve's embrace much less travel all the distance to her apartment. 

 

“Hey Becks, Stevie here?” he asks with a grin, barely paying attention to his sister and craning his neck to peep inside her apartment.

 

“Rude! I don’t even get a hi?” she admonishes, pushing his intruding head out of her doorway and stepping outside to shoot daggers at Bucky's grin.

 

“Hi Rebecca, how are you? Is Steve here?” he gives her a shit eating grin, still teasing her despite the fact that both of them are grown adults and no longer two teenagers. She shakes her head at him and he steps forward and engulfs her in a bear hug. She giggles at the gesture and pulls herself away from the embrace, instead punching his arm lightly as retribution.

 

“No. He left some time back. But come on in, I've a friend here I want you to meet.” She claps her hands in glee and beckons Bucky inside. Bucky gives her a questioning glance and tries to free himself from her death grip, but she wins through sheer will power and pulls him inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

 

“Becks, I really don’t have the time. I’ve got tickets to the movies and I've to find Steve before that.” He tries again and she finally has mercy on him and lets go of his arm. But doesn’t let him turn and leave.

 

“Maybe you can take Stephanie to the movies instead. You’ll love her, I promise.” She turns to him with a mischievous smile and Bucky freezes.

 

“Rebecca, what are you going on about? You know I can’t, I don’t… there’s Steve and…” he can’t believe his ears. Of all people, he thought Rebecca would understand, would know not to suggest such a thing to him. Even before he and Steve got together, she had known about his feelings for the blonde. Has to know that Steve's name is engraved on Bucky’s heart and soul.

 

It was Rebecca who gave him the courage to finally tell Steve, gave him the confidence and the belief that Steve returned his feelings. She had also been the first and only person they’d both told about their relationship. So, in all, they owe their relationship to her. Trust her with their life, their love and their relationship. So, for her to suggest that Bucky take another dame to a movie he wants to go with Steve to, is surprising to say the least.

 

“At least come and say hi. I promise you won’t regret it.” She pulls her infamous puppy dog eyes on him, a trick he's yet to learn how to deflect and he finally caves. Albeit a little concerned, a little betrayed.

 

“Fine, two minutes and then I’m gone.”

 

She nods happily and calls out to her friend. Stephanie, as Bucky remembers, comes out of Rebecca’s room. Her entire demeanour is that of a shy person and it is not a far stretch to say that she is nervous to meet Bucky. Her eyes are downcast and she wrangles her hands in front of her, pausing a little to rub her thumb soothingly over her knuckles and back before she stops. A calming gesture, Bucky knows from his time with Steve.

“Hey Steph, this is my brother Bucky and Bucky this is Steph. We met at work.” Rebecca introduces them both and Bucky moves forward to shake the brunette’s hand.

 

“Hello Stephanie, pleased to meet you.” He offers her a hand and she shakes his hand but refuses to say anything back. He shakes her hand and gently drops it to move a step back. He lets his gaze travel over the brunette in front of him. There’s something distinctly familiar and, yet, wrong about her, her body, her entire demeanour. The way she rubs her hands up and down her skinny forearms is familiar to him, but the fit of the dress on her is all wrong and weird. Women don’t wear a dress that big on them and neither do they walk around barefoot in somebody else’s house. Stephanie’s arms are too skinny, not the healthy kind and the bruises on her knuckles are all too familiar to Bucky. Only one person in Brooklyn has got those.

 

“Sorry Stephanie is a little shy. It’s mainly because she thinks you’re really cute. She’d love to go out with you, won’t ya Steph?”  Rebecca cuts in cheekily, causing both Bucky’s and Stephanie’s head to snap in her direction. Stephanie burned a bright shade of red and that somehow snapped something in Bucky. He advanced towards his sister and the action preceded Stephanie turning her head towards him. He turned towards her, but addressed his sister.

 

“Rebecca…” he glared at his little sister, “I'm so sorry Stephanie, she’s got a big mouth. There's no need to feel so embarrassed or anything. I’d never…” he stopped for a second and then leaned in close to Stephanie.

_Because. no way... holy shit._

It’s Steve, he knows it’s Steve. He could see the familiarity earlier but once he’s seen those eyes there’s no mistaking it. Stephanie- Steve- has got the bluest, most gorgeous eyes in Brooklyn and right now those eyes are trained on him. He’d know them anywhere, in the darkest of alleys under the thickest pair of glasses. He’d know them in his sleep, recognise them from a mile way. Doesn’t matter that Steve's wearing black liner around them and that his lashes have been curled and painted black, Bucky still recognises them.

 

 

“I was going to say, I’d never ask you out like that, unless it’s something you want. If you want to go out dancing, I’d never say no.” he smirked as Steve's eyes widened. He could read the blonde so well and the betrayal flashing in his eyes made Bucky want to drop the act immediately. He could never hurt Steve, couldn’t give him the idea that Bucky wants anybody else, even for a second. He knows, even though Steve will never mention it, that he is insecure about their relationship, unsure as to how much and why Bucky loves him. He can see it in Steve’s eyes, the lingering questions when Bucky says _I love you,_ the heartbroken look when a dame flirts with Bucky and the utter disbelief when Bucky tells him how beautiful he is. Each time he vows to dispel those emotions and this time also he does the same. Because Steve doesn’t deserve these doubts, he deserves love and somebody who cares and understands.  

 

 

he leaned in closer, his lips a mere inch away from Steve's own and watched as the blonde’s eyes grew misty and his own sister held her breath in disbelief.

 

“It’d be a pleasure to be seen out with a dame as beautiful as you, an honour to be holding your hand in mine. If you’d let me take you out for the night, I promise you won’t regret it. Will make it the best damn night of your life, Stevie, I promise.” He leaned in and kissed his stunned blonde partner, huffing a laugh into his painted lips. Steve kissed back after a while, his brain not fully catching up to the turn of events but Bucky refused to pull away until Steve gave him a thorough kiss.

 

“You knew it was me? How’d you know? I wouldn’t know myself.” Steve asked breathlessly, clutching tightly onto Bucky's bicep, his eyes still a little watery. Bucky gives him another kiss, softer yet lingering and pulls him into his arms.

 

“I would know those blue eyes anywhere, love. Hide it under more make-up or even some mask and I’d still know.” He places a kiss each got Steve's eyes and gives him a small smile, coaxing Steve to smile back.

 

“Shit! That’s so cute. I'm gonna cry if you don’t get out now.” Rebecca butts in from the back and Bucky is abruptly reminded of their company. He gives Steve an apologetic smile but, stops when Steve laughs along with Rebecca and makes no move to pull away from his arms.

 

“I know we’re cute and all. What I wanna know is why my man is dressed all pretty, not that I'm complaining.” Still holding Steve, he turns towards Rebecca with a faux-stern look, prompting his sister to give him an apologetic smile and cross her arms defensively.

 

 And he really is not complaining. Steve, who always looks like a dream, looks equally good today also. He's wearing one of Rebecca’s dresses, black to match the eyeliner around his eyes. His eyelashes are each curled beautifully and the once blonde lashes are now doused in black. His plump, thoroughly sinful and always kissable lips are painted red, instead of their natural pink and it only serves in making them look more enticing. The dress sits a little loose on Steve's petite figure and Rebecca has tied it around his shapely waist with a red belt. It gives Steve the hourglass shape all girls envy and Bucky's mouth run dry. The sleeves of the dress extend till Steve's forearms and the hemline falls just below his knee. His pale legs are hidden beneath some black stockings and it doesn’t help Bucky's steadily growing arousal. Anybody who sees Steve today is going to be staring and it inevitably means Bucky's going to be punching some assholes today. The brown wig that sits atop Steve's head really pulls and ties the look together, making Steve look like somebody else altogether. Somebody female and very pretty.

 

“Since you can’t go on a date with Stevie here, I thought you could go on a date with Stephanie. No one will have a problem, because no one will know any better. And you get to have your date.” She replied with a shrug like it was all he needed to know.

 

And it pretty much was. She had him at the _go on the date,_ not that she needs to know this.

 

“Buck, is this okay? You're not weirded out or anything? I'm a guy dressed like a dame and all.” Bucky turns back to a guilty looking Steve and smiles again. Steve's so cute when he looks guilty, given that it is not a regular look on Steve-righteous-anger-only-Rogers.  

 

“First of all, I think everybody should be allowed to dress however they want. Second of all, you look absolutely gorgeous and might be- no are the most beautiful woman in Brooklyn right now. Third, you did this so we could go out and have a date like everybody else in Brooklyn. That’s some deep romantic shit Stevie. I don’t even know what I did to deserve it, what I did to deserve you, but damn me if I'm not going to jump at the opportunity. Nobody else would’ve done this for anybody and I'm so proud of you Stevie. I'm so in love with you right now.” He confesses the truth and watches as the blush deepens on Steve's porcelain face.

 

Rebecca hasn’t applied much makeup to his face, just the eye and the lip and Bucky's thankful for that. He doesn’t want anything covering Steve flawless skin, and as much he loathes the black around Steve’s eyes, he's incredibly attracted to how they accentuate the baby blue of Steve’s eyes. And it’s not like Steve needs any pink on his face, he always blushes pretty when Bucky sweet talks him; every single time.   

 

“You deserve this and more Buck. Deserve the goddamn world and then some. But I'm glad you liked it, I'm glad I could do this for you. You're worth it sweetheart, you're worth every hair clip stabbing my scalp.” And just like that Bucky melts and becomes one with the floor. As much as he can make Steve blush, so can Steve. They’re both so in love, that the colour of love is a permanent fixture on their faces.

 

“You both get out of here right this instant or I swear I'm gonna burst due to all the feelings welling inside me. You're so sweet. Look at you sweet talking each other. Malcolm is in so much trouble when he returns. He never sweet talks.”

 

“And you're sure you're okay, Stevie? This is okay with you? If you're uncomfortable-”

 

Bucky ignores his sister’s rambling and turns his attention back to his love. He holds Steve tenderly and noses along his jaw, pausing enough to let Steve speak because if Steve's uncomfortable they’re not doing it. Doesn’t matter how much Bucky wants it, almost needs it, because if Steve doesn’t feel a hundred and ten percent comfortable with it, then Bucky's not going to force him to do it. Doesn’t matter if Steve thinks Bucky deserves this and whatever else he’s willing to offer, if Steve's not getting something out of it, then Bucky doesn’t want it. The whole date thing isn’t even for Bucky, it’s for Steve. It’s to show him everything he’s missed out on from his teenage years, to show him how much Bucky cares about him, loves him, wants him and needs him. It’s not as much for Bucky as it is for Steve, for their relationship, for their love. Every breath that Bucky takes is for Steve, and if Steve tells him that that is too much, then he’ll stop doing that too.

 

“I'm more than fine. I get to go on a date with the Bucky Barnes. Live the dream of every dame in Brooklyn.” He replies with a smirk and Bucky falls in love all over again.

 

“If that’s how it is, then let’s go Stevie, don’t want to miss the movie.” He takes Steve's hand in his and intertwines their fingers, holding Steve with a possessiveness he’s never had before. Steve smiles up at him and leans into his side, turning his head so he can whisper into Bucky's ear.

 

“Stephanie, Buck. Don’t forget the name of the dame before you even start the date. At least wait till she lets you kiss her.”

 

“Oh. Will Stephanie let me kiss her?” he questions inquisitively. He leans closer to Steve so their breaths mingle again and he can look him in the eye, his mouth pulled in a filthy smirk.

 

“She might if you show her a good time.” Steve answers breathlessly, his gaze travelling down Bucky's face to land on his lips.

 

Bucky makes a show of licking his lips slowly and revels in the way it makes Steve's breath hitch. He leans closer till their lips are touching and whispers the question into Steve's slightly parted lips. “And what if I show her the best time?”

 

“Then I'm guessing you’ll have to take her home. Your home.” The blonde whispers before surging in and sealing their lips together. Aware of their sister clearing her throat in the background, they keep the kiss fairly innocent. But still when they part, they’re both breathing heavy and Bucky is enamoured by the sight of Steve's blown pupils framed by black and his red lips framed by the smudged lipstick. At this rate they’ll never make it anywhere. He pulls back from Steve and straightens himself, putting some distance between them before he does something that scars his sister forever.

 

“Definitely showing her the best time.” Bucky purrs, his eyes twinkling with the promise.

 

“Promises, promises. That’s all I'm hearing Barnes. Are you all talk and no show?” Steve taunts again, his voice husky and deep, and now Bucky is sure they’re not going to make it anywhere if he lets Steve talk to him like that.

 

So, he changes tactics. Leans in close till he is speaking directly into Steve's ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive shell.

 

“Oh, just wait and see, doll. You’ll know I'm all talk, show and bite.” Steve shudders at the words and Bucky's the only one who has to know how much it gets to him.

 

   
***

 

 Steve watches the people go by, none of them sparing either of them a glance. It’s weird and unfamiliar to say the least considering Steve's leaning on Bucky and Bucky's hand is around Steve's waist. But since Steve's dressed as a dame and Bucky's a guy, it’s not a problem to the vast population of Brooklyn. Steve turns a little in Bucky's arms till he can nestle his face into Bucky's shirt, the move partly an attempt to cover his face and partly to soak in the warmth seeping through him. It’s an addicting novelty, to be this close to Bucky in public, to be allowed to walk in his arms and soak in his warmth outside the four walls of their apartment.

 

Bucky turns a little, body turning completely towards Steve, and holds him tighter. The blonde realises immediately that Bucky's thinking the same as him, the novelty and temporary feel of it all, and smiles softly. So, he doesn’t complain about the slight discomfiture he feels at the strong hold, the breathlessness that clogs his lungs or the strong scent of Bucky's cologne. He huddles closer and smiles at Bucky, when he kisses the top of Steve's head.

 

“Hey Barnes, seems like you got yourself a new dame. Won’t you introduce her to us?”

 

They both turned towards the sneering voice of Philip, who stood to the side with a few cronies of his. Steve felt his hands fist themselves at his sides on instinct and anger flare in his nostrils. He stepped forward angrily but stopped when Bucky's hands tightened just a fraction at his sides.

 

 _Right, he couldn’t. He wasn’t Steve Rogers today, he was Stephanie and he couldn’t risk exposing himself, unless he wanted to end up with his brain toyed with. A guy dressed as a dame, walking around with another guy: they would be lucky to get out of this with just their brains played with and not beaten to death._  

  

“What do you want, Philip?” Bucky's voice was even and his tone calm, but Steve knew Bucky well enough to know the storm brewing beneath the calm surface. His hand found Bucky's on his waist and gave it a small squeeze, hoping the gesture would calm Bucky down. That he wouldn’t get into a fight with so many, not when Steve couldn’t help.

 

“Don’t want nothing, unless, you are willing to share her. So lithe and tactile. Perfect.” He crooned and Steve felt his skin crawl.

 

How did women endure this on a daily basis? How did they deal with being treated as mere objects made for male pleasure? How could they stand being spoken to in such a condescending and demeaning manner without wanting to fight back every time?

 

Steve was used to people being jerks, teasing him about his skinny frame and non-existent muscle, but this was far worse. He understood the feeling of being treated unequally by other men, but this wasn’t just unequal, this was inhumane. Steve, Stephanie, Becca, it didn’t matter, they all deserved respect, compassion, some goddamn dignity. And it made Steve very angry that he could do nothing about it, not now, probably not ever.

 

Bucky let go of Steve's body, stepped away from him but closer to the rascals they faced. His face was hard, jaw clenched and hands fisted at his sides. Steve swallowed dryly as Bucky's eyes darkened in barely repressed rage and his chest heaved in fury. This wouldn’t end well, never had.

 

Despite being the cheery and more patient of the two, Bucky was in no way a coward or afraid. He got angry, not as easily as Steve, and when he did it was a sight to behold. He was strong, lean but muscled and had picked up enough tricks, from saving Steve's ass numerous times, to know how to hold his own in a fight. Though he had only seen Bucky's full rage once, (Steve's father had never raised his hand on Steve and his mother after that) he knew the signs really well.

 

The murderous gait, the clenched fists, the darkened eyes and the heaving chest. He knew the pinch between his brows, the furrowing of his eyebrows and the pinch in his lips. He knew the concealed fury in those cold eyes and the strength in those fists.

 

Steve did not envy Philip’s position at all, because, he was going to know Bucky Barnes and his fist really well.

 

“I'm going to give you one chance, Philip. Say that again or walk away.” The low growl sends a wave of arousal through Steve and so does the situation. He’s never had this before, never seen Bucky jealous and angry about the attention Steve receives, go all murderous over it as the roles have always been reversed; but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see the problem here, the impending disaster.

 

“The dame’s perfect and I'm willing to share with ya. You get the first of course.”

 

“Step forward and let’s settle this like men. Just you and I. Leave your goons behind.” 

 

As soon as the words leave Bucky's mouth, Steve's fall open. He steps forward and grabs Bucky's elbow, pulling him backwards so that he looks into Steve's eyes.

 

“Don’t do this, Buck. Not here, not now. Please. We can finish this tomorrow, I promise.”

 

Bucky shook his head gently and caressed the jut of Steve's cheekbones with his knuckles. He placed a kiss to his forehead and let his hands fall from Steve's face.

 

“He’s a bully, Stevie. And we don’t forgive bullies, remember. Never have, never will.” He spoke softly, lifting his knuckles to caress Steve's soft skin again.

 

Steve looks back into Bucky's eyes, mesmerised by the conviction he sees in them and nods. He lets go of Bucky's elbow and rises on his toes to place a kiss to Bucky's cheek.

 

“Show ’im hell, love.” he whispers against Bucky's cheek and can feel Bucky's answering grin against his mouth.

 

He falls back and lets Bucky face Philip again, who’s watching them with a sneer on his ugly mug. Steve doesn’t look at him, but keeps his gaze fixed on Bucky, who’s matching Philip’s sneer with a deadly glare.

 

“What’s the matter, Barnes? Dolly doesn’t think you’ll make it?” He fake croons, casting dirty looks towards Steve.

 

 

Steve fidgets under his looks and wishes he could punch it off his face, but he doesn’t. He lets Bucky take over. For only the second time in his life, Steve lets Bucky fight his battle for him.

 

And Bucky does. He steps forward and lifts Philip off the ground with his left hand tight around his neck and lets his feet hang in the air. Philip, taken by surprise, tries to throw punches at Bucky, but fails. His face loses colour fast and he is scared paper white.

 

Bucky smirks at him, turns around to throw a wink at Steve and punches him with his right hand, the sound of knuckles over nose satisfying in a sadistic manner. Philip cries out in pain, as Steve mentally whoops, and Bucky drops him to the ground. He beckons Steve closer to himself and points towards a writhing Philip at his feet, scrambling to get air into his lungs.

 

“Show him what you got, love. Don’t hold back.”

 

But Steve doesn’t. Philip got what he deserved, didn’t he? If they both go overboard with his punishment, then they become the bullies. And they are not. He looks at Bucky and shakes his head. Steve's never been into offence, he's always learned and liked only to defend himself. He could bring himself to be the sword, always settling to be the shield.

 

 Whatever Bucky saw in his eyes must have told him all about what Steve thought, because he didn’t push, just pulled Steve close and whispered just three words of understanding, _we are not._

 

He took Steve’s hand in his own and walked away from Philip, whose goons immediately scrambled to get to him, and walked in the opposite direction to where they were initially going. Bucky clasped Steve's hand tightly in his and walked with his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

 

Despite, the action being one to be easily mistaken as a romantic one, Steve knew Bucky well enough to know it wasn’t one. Bucky had something to say and he was gathering his thoughts and bidding time. He took a deep breath, but didn’t speak and Steve gave him time to say whatever he needed. It took another 15 minutes before Bucky spoke.

 

“I'm sorry for losing control like that, Stevie. This is the one evening we get to be us and I almost blew it  by getting into a stupid fight. I don’t know wat I was thinking, all I could concentrate upon was the fact that he was disrespecting you and I saw red. I couldn’t control myself when he asked me to share you with him. Just the thought…” Bucky gritted his teeth and Steve waited patiently, squeezing his hand gently to calm him, ground him, giving him the encouragement to speak his mind.

 

“… just the thought made me wanna bash his head in, drain the life out of him. It was an ugly feeling, a maddening possessiveness, like you are mine and the thought of you with somebody else just sets my heart on fire. I'm sorry Stevie, I got all jealous and ugly. I really didn’t mean to, you know. It’s just that, it’s you, you know, and I've got no control over myself when it comes to you, protecting us and loving you is all I've ever done and all I know. And now I'm rambling.”

 

They both laughed softly at that and then fell silent. Steve took a deep  breath and stopped Bucky from moving forward. He stepped in front of the brunette and took both his hands in his own, waiting till Bucky looked him in the eye to start speaking.

 

“You didn’t lose control, Buck. You did what any gentleman would have done, defended the honour of the girl you were out with. It’s a noble thing to do, irrespective of who you are with, me or another dame. I'm not angry at you for that. And I am definitely not angry at you for your possessiveness. I'm yours, Buck, for as long as you’ll have me. You have my heart and body and if you so wish, my very life. And in turn I have yours, your devotion, your love and your respect. I love you, Buck and nobody else.  And above all you don’t have to apologise for teaching a bully a lesson or two.”

 

Bucky pulled him close, his eyes shining with unspoken love and wrapped his hands around Steve's waist. He buried his face in the brown wig and closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of holding his beloved so close that their hearts beat as one.

 

“Love you too, Stevie. Love you so much. I'm yours too, love. Heart, body and soul, till the end of the line.”

 

They smiled at each other, ever consumed by the other even in the presence of thousands milling around, seeing only the other even in a crowd. 

 

Bucky pulled Steve into a hug and held him there, for a moment or five. They needed this, needed each other. Once Steve pulled back, they kept walking, laughing and talking about their jobs, the crazy neighbours of theirs, about Mrs Gladstone’s cute dog. They talked about nothing and everything, exchanged words of love, gestures of devotion. People didn’t stare at them, nor were they cornered by the moral police.

 

“So, this is definitely not the way to the movies. Where are we going, Buck?”

 

Bucky smiled at him, extraordinarily bright even in the setting sun, and hummed a little tune under his breath.  Steve raised an eyebrow at him, a silent challenge that had Bucky laughing immediately.

 

“Coney island. We’re going to Coney island.”

 

***

 

The walk to Coney Island was long but not tiring, the time spent talking up a storm. The two men were ecstatic, a long gone wish of going to Coney Island together, coming true in the most spectacular way possible. They had of course been to the amusement park before, but, never hand in hand, never leaning into each other, never looking at each other so openly. Today, they were allowed to be in love openly and go on the long awaited date.

 

 

Bucky pulled Steve towards the cyclone first, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. Steve looked up in horror at the monstrous ride and shook his head violently, planting his feet firmly in the ground and folding his arms. Bucky smiled in fond amusement at his lover and tried to pull Steve towards him by grabbing his shoulder but Steve doesn’t budge, glaring at Bucky from beneath heavily made up eyes.

“C’mon Stevie, you know we can’t come here and not go on the cyclone. It’s a tradition.” He pouts at his love and pulls his best pleading eyes.

 

Immediately he sees Steve's stern demeanour fall and the blonde melt a little.  But he still doesn’t move from his spot, nor lower his folded arms. He moves closer to Bucky till their faces are hardly an inch apart and lowers his voice to whisper into the space between them.

 

“If I throw up, the makeup will run. That’s risky and you know it. Maybe next time, okay? I promise.”

 

The matter had only drawn on Bucky when Steve explained it. He gave a small nod and smiled apologetically at the smaller blonde and moved forward to close the distance between them. He took Steve's hands in his own and placed a small kiss to each. He smiled at Steve's beautiful face and thanked all the Gods above that, that beautiful man was his, that Steve only loved him.

 

“Always the smarter of us, aren’t ya? So…no cyclone. What do you wanna do instead?”

 

“You didn’t think beyond the cyclone?” the blonde asked cheekily, plump lips parting to reveal pearly white teeth. Bucky's eyes fell to his mouth and he shook his head.

 

“Didn’t think beyond being here with you and getting to hold your hand amidst all these people. Rest everything seemed unnecessary.” He shrugged without lifting his gaze from Steve's pretty lips and got to see the way Steve's lips curved and parted at the returning smile.

 

And though the smile was nice and beautiful and everything Bucky wanted to see at that moment, he hadn’t just said things to make Steve happy. The moment he had laid eyes on Steve- Stephanie, all he had wanted was to drag him to Coney Island and ride the cyclone together, hand in hand, eyes on each other. He hadn’t spared a moment to think about running make up or getting exposed. All he had wanted was for them to hold on to each other for dear life and have the time of their lives on a ride they’d always dreamt of.

 

In was a fact that he hadn’t even thought about what they’d do next. He hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen once the ride was over. He hadn’t planned the evening out the way he normally did, hadn’t thought of dining and dancing. Hadn’t thought about how to keep Steve interested and entertained, instead focussing on Steve and Steve alone.

The way his eyes glowed in the lights of the amusement park. The way the dress accentuated Steve's artistic figure where it cinched his waist. The way his legs looked better than any dame’s in those black stockings. How his lashes were longer and darker than ever before.

 

He was so lost in all that was Steve, that he forgot he had to show Stephanie a good time.

 

“There you go, getting all sappy on me, Barnes.” Steve blushed a pretty red and Bucky's heart skipped multiple beats. He resisted the urge to pull Steve into a kiss, date etiquettes and gentlemanly behaviour be damned, and instead bowed his head in mock humility.

 

“If you’ve got nothing planned beforehand, can we play some games?” the blonde asked quietly, suddenly shy and infinitesimally more beautiful. He fell in love all over again and the ecstatic nod he replied with conveyed the emotion to Steve perfectly. The blonde outright giggled at the action and Bucky's heart glowed just a little brighter.

 

 

They started with the most basic game, shooting down a neat stack of metal tumblers with a ball. Despite Bucky's suggestion that Steve play first, Steve let Bucky play. It had nothing to do with Bucky's far superior skill and aim and all with Steve's adamant need to win everything. He had a goal in mind to win every game they play and to do that they had to play to their strengths.

 

Let it be known that Steve Rogers knew how to do date right.

 

Bucky smiled at Steve's plan of action and took the ball from him. He shuffled his feet till they were hip’s width apart and took the ball into his right hand. He pulled his arm up and over his shoulder and closed the left eye to focus on his target. As he pulled his arm back to throw, he heard Steve scoff from behind.

 

“Quit stalling.”

 

Throwing a wink over his shoulder at his impatient lover, Bucky took aim and threw the ball, hitting the bottom row and subsequently sending all of them tumbling to the floor. He whooped and turned, threw his arms open for Steve to fall into (which he didn’t, no need to stroke Bucky's ego) and took quite a theatrical bow. Steve shook his head fondly and stepped forward to take Bucky's left hand in his.

 

“I’ll take the pink bear, sir.” Bucky pointed towards the cute pink stuffed animal and the game owner grumpily handed it over.

 

Turning towards Steve with a shit eating grin, Bucky presented the bear.

 

“It’s for you. Thought you’d like one.” Steve stuck out his tongue at the brunette, but took the bear from him anyway. He held the bear close to himself with his left hand and with his right, began pulling Bucky towards the next stall.

 

The next one was throwing darts at a spinning dart board, some sections of the board displaying gifts and others blank. Bucky paid for the game and placed the darts into Steve's hand. He gave the blonde an encouraging smile and gestured towards the spinning board.

 

“Don’t think too much, love. Somethings are meant to be just enjoyed.”

 

Steve nodded absentmindedly and Bucky knew he hadn’t heard a word he had said. But he didn’t say anything, let Steve play with his crazy competitive spirit.

 

Steve placed his legs, one behind the other, lined perfectly and a feet apart and threw the dart. The dart spun through the air and hit one corner of the dart. The game owner stopped the board and peered at the dart from under heavy glasses.

 

“Looks like you got yourself a chocolate, missy. Well played.” He said in a gruff voice and turned towards Steve with the sweet treat in his hands.

 

He handed the sweet to Steve and smiled at the both of them. they smiled back and waved goodbye to the man, walking towards the other games.

 

“Here you go, Buck. Something sweet for the sweetest man I know.” Steve blushed thousand shades of red as the words slipped from his mouth and Bucky grinned at the tiny blonde. He took the chocolate from Steve and pretended to wipe a tear away from his eyes, all the while cooing and fanning himself.

 

“Can it, Barnes or I'm eating the chocolate.” Bucky stopped his over-exaggerated noises and instead settled for smiling dopily at Steve, batting his lashes sweetly and wiggling his eyebrows in insinuation. Steve groaned but his eyes betrayed his amusement at Bucky's antiques, the mirth trickling softly into his lips as well.

 

It was heaven on earth to say the least. The two men abandoned their win-all plan after that, instead settling to spend the rest of their meager money on eating. They settled for hot dogs after a brief discussion which included and was solely restricted to Steve suggesting and Bucky complying.

 

They ate their dinner in companionable silence, taking turns to watch the other’s profile in the light of the setting sun and then watching the sunset together. And it was quite the sunset, vibrant orange and fiery red, honest pink and shy blue, majestic indigo and hedonistic black.

As captivating and breath-taking as it was, both men would agree that the other was far more alluring, breath-taking, majestic and consuming. They'd both agree that if there was one sight they'd never get tired of seeing all their lives it was the other’s face. Because their love wasn’t about the physical appearance anymore, had never been in the first place, it was spiritual.

 

As they both sat lost in each other’s eyes and their thoughts, a small girl approached them, big green eyes trained on the bear in Steve's hand. She looked Steve up and down and gently took hold of one of the bear’s paws.

 

“Can I have this, please? My ma couldn’t win me one.” She looked at Steve's face with a pleading pout and Steve immediately let go of the bear. The girl smiled and thanked him and took off running into the crowd before Steve could ask or say anything.

 

As soon as the girl disappeared from sight, Steve felt guilty. He had given away the bear Bucky had won for him without a second thought, had given away a tangible part of their evening without even consulting Bucky first. He turned towards Bucky, apology ready on the tip of his tongue, but, Bucky covered his mouth with his palm.

 

“Don’t you dare apologise, Stevie. That’s a good thing you did.”

“But that was a part of our evening wasn’t it? A part we could’ve always kept.” 

 

“We will always have these memories to keep, my love, and no one can ask us to part with that. She can have the bear, it’s the memory of winning it for you that means more to me.”

 

Steve smiled softly at the words and Bucky could feel it under his palm. He removed his hand so he could see it too and got up from where they sat. he helped Steve up and made his way to the last destination of the night.

 

The wonder wheel.

 

They sat facing each other, leaning a little towards the middle so their knees could bump in the middle. Their tightly clasped hands lay across their laps as the two looked around to make out the amazing scenes around them. As the wheel started spinning and they got a bit off the ground, Steve wretched his hands away from Bucky's own and slammed them down on the top of his head.

 

Bucky made a confused sound in the back of his throat and leaned towards Steve, his face painted in worry. Steve saw the look on his face and gently shook his head, removing one hand from his head to hold Bucky's hand, and smiled  at the brunette.

 

“I'm fine, Buck. I'm just worried the wig is gonna fly off. I'm not feeling sick, don’t worry.”

 

Bucky looked into Steve's eyes, wrapped his free hand around the side of Steve's face and his neck and pulled him closer till their foreheads touched.

 

“I’ll always worry about you, love. I worry about you because I love you and as long as I love you, I’ll worry about you. You can’t wish it away.”

 

“You’ll always love me? Till the day I die?” Steve whispered quietly, the words hardly making it across the small space between them.

 

“Till the day I die, sweetheart.” Bucky replied instinctively, easily, just like breathing.

 

Because it was that easy. Loving Steve was always easy, had always been easy. Knowingly or unknowingly Bucky's been doing it for years. Has loved Steve from their first handshake back in first grade to here, holding hands on the wheel. Has loved him in some form or another, as the bestest of friends in their childhood to lovers in the now. Has always cherished and adored Steve, from the fighter of bullies in school to the fighter of bullies on the streets.

 

Bucky doesn’t love Steve as a part of his life, Bucky's life is a part of his love for Steve. Because if there’s anything worthwhile he's done in this life, it’s falling in love with Steve.

 

 

“Why? Why do you love me so much? I'm thin and weak and sickly, Buck. No dame in Brooklyn wants me, why do you?” Steve's voice breaks at the question, and Bucky curses every person who’s told Steve he’s not good enough, made him believe that there is something wrong with him, made him question his worth, his whole existence. If Bucky could, he'd find them and make each one apologise. Make them regret ever hurting Steve Rogers.

 

But he can’t. so he settles for the next best thing. Making Steve believe in himself again. Show him how much he was loved, needed, wanted.

 

“I don’t know, love. I don’t know why I love you or why I want you, all I know is that I need you. Need you like the air I breathe, the food I eat. I feel like I didn’t fall in love with you, Stevie, I was just born loving you and will die loving you too. I'm yours, sweetheart, womb to tomb, in sickness and in health.”

 

He surges in and kisses Steve then, at the top of the wheel with the whole park as witness. Because Steve Rogers deserves this, Bucky Barnes deserves it, they deserved it. The kiss was slow, unhurried and exploratory as if they had all the time in the world; infinitesimally sweet and even more so softer. A kiss shared under the stars, with a galaxy as witness.

 

No dame in Brooklyn may want Steve, but Bucky does, to Bucky he's not just some bony, unhealthy guy, he's so much more. He's the sun to Bucky's universe, the moon to the darkness in Bucky's life. Steve may not see it, but Bucky cherishes him, adores him for being different. Bucky sees his short, thin and frail body and still loves him, loves him for it not despite it. Bucky would give up anything to keep Steve the way he is, not change a goddamn thing about him, just to show him he doesn’t need to change himself to please anyone. Because Bucky loves Steve and Steve loves Bucky and their love is enough.

 

 ***

 

As they enter the apartment building, Mrs Gladstone walks by with her dog. She stops them both and eyes Bucky skeptically, calls him a bad boy. Bucky smiles his easy going smile at her, charms her with his words and compliments and introduces _Stephanie_ to her. When she inquires about Steve, tells her he’s gone home over to a friend’s house, throws in an exaggerated wink to make it seem suggestive.

 

Steve just smiles through it all. He's not worried, not with Mrs Gladstone’s bad eyesight. He's also glad about her unusually adept gossip skills. Tomorrow it’ll be common knowledge in the area hat Bucky came home with a girl and Steve went home with another.

 

Perfect excuse to cover up any noises they may make or marks they might leave.

 

Bucky's darkened eyes tell him that Bucky's thinking the same. As soon as they bid goodbye to Mrs Gladstone and reach the door of their apartment, Steve finds himself pinned to the surface, arms held beside his head by Bucky's own, the brunette standing too close to the blonde, but not close enough. 

 

Bucky leans him and kisses him and Steve knows they need to take it inside now, before they take it any further, lose themselves in the surge of arousal they’ve found themselves in since the start of their evening.

 

The door closes behind them softly, the only sounds in their apartment being their soft exhalations. Steve's heart thunders in his chest, anticipation and arousal singing in his veins. Its not the first time they’ve kissed, far from it, but it still feels like his lips tingle from the sensation of Bucky's on them. He is suddenly nervous, the living room feels too small and the dress that is a size too big suddenly feels like its constricting and suffocating. He raises his hand to tug at the neckline but Bucky intercepts him midway.

 

Bucky takes his hand in his and raises it to his lips, planting a soft kiss to Steve's bruised knuckles. Steve's shudders at the gesture, closes his eyes when Bucky swipes his tongue over them. Bucky pulls him closer to himself and Steve's lets himself be pulled into those strong arms. He rests his head on Bucky's chest and lets him carry his meagre weight. Bucky holds him close, runs his hand soothingly up and down Steve's back and the blonde lets out a long sigh at the sensation.

Bucky's such a strong guy but yet his touch is always soft, soothing and incredibly reassuring. They calm Steve down, make him feel incredibly loved and extremely cared for. It’s always been a wonder to him how such calloused hands can bring him so much joy, contentment and pleasure. But they do, never once have they failed and he’s thankful for it, to a God he doesn’t believe in.

 

He runs his hands down Bucky's arms, feeling the muscle underneath, the touch of fabric under his arms notwithstanding. At the touch of his hands, he feels Bucky shudder, exhale quietly into the darkness around them. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, just continues to run his hands up Bucky's arms, over his shoulder and down his chest. He can hear Bucky's heart beat uncontrollably, feel its strength under his palms and its addicting, everything about Bucky is. He leans closer, lets his hands and ear rest over Bucky's heart, just to hear him, feel him. To know that that heart beats only for him.

 

As Steve's hands come to a rest, Bucky's pick up again. They trace the curve of Steve's spine, the dimples at his lower back and the width of his hips. Bucky's fingertips dance along each knob in his spine, sending sparks of arousal through his body and Steve's helplessly keels into Bucky's touch. It’s an encouragement and Bucky welcomes it with both hands.  

 

His hands travel further down, over the swell of his ass, the back of his thigh, resting just at the hem of the dress. Steve's breath hitches at the thought of Bucky's hands on his skin, no clothes in between and whines quietly. The sounds resonates in the silence around them, but Bucky doesn’t give him any time to be ashamed of it, to overthink it.  

 

His hands dip under the dress, his rough hands a stark contrast against the soft skin of Steve's thighs, and Steve loves the sensation. He moans quietly at the first touch and sighs quietly when Bucky kisses the side of his face. The brunette’s hands moves upwards, pulling the dress along with them causing goose bumps to rise over pale skin. The cool air hitting his legs is a reprieve from Bucky's scorching touch and Steve's lost in the sensation of it all.

 

Bucky's hands come to rest at the swell of his ass and Steve's pushes back into the touch. He wants it, needs it like a man starved but Bucky waits. Waits till Steve stops pushing, goes pliant again in Bucky's arms. He nudges Steve till he tilts his head up and kisses him slowly. Captures the blonde’s plump lips with his own and bites the bottom one gently. Steve whines at the sting and Bucky takes the opening to soothe the sting with his tongue. He swipes his tongue over Steve's lips till he opens up and then licks in with his tongue. Their tongue mingle in the middle and Bucky squeezes Steve's ass at the same time.

 

Steve's whines into the kiss, pushes back into his hands but Bucky lets go again. Steve whines pitifully, almost begging, but stops pushing again. The moment his body relaxes, Bucky starts kneading the flesh of his back. Steve's mouth falls open at the sensation and Bucky uses the opportunity to suck Steve's tongue into his mouth. It’s messy and sloppy but Steve loves it and goes along willingly, enthusiastically.

 

 

Bucky lets his hands slide higher, stopping at the waistband of Steve's underwear. Steve holds his breath at the movement, is ready to kick it off and take it into their bedroom, but he knows Bucky wants this to last. But the arousal thrumming in their veins, the loud beating of their hearts and their hot erections are in a hurry, in a race to the finish. But Steve waits, he knows Bucky and what Bucky wants. If Bucky wants this to last he can wait too, despite the heat in his gut and hot flesh between his legs.  

 

Bucky slips his hands into Steve's underwear, gropes him hard, till Steve's panting into the space between them. He places soft kisses to the corners of Steve's mouth and traces the curve of his jaw with his tongue. Steve's stuck between the sensation of Bucky's sinful tongue on his neck and his equally sinful hands on his back. He doesn’t push back into Bucky's hands, but he does whine quietly, a silent plea, a ‘get on’ sign if any.

 

Bucky takes it, slips both his index fingers down the crack of Steve's ass and gently runs it over the furl of muscles at Steve's opening. Steve moans loudly at that, hardly holding back from thrusting backwards, and tilts his head for a kiss again. Bucky takes his lips between his own and kisses him again, still teasing his hole with his fingers.

 

Steve knows Bucky won’t push in, not without the Vaseline, but it still makes him thrum excitedly. He wants Bucky in him so badly, needs him like yesterday, but he doesn’t push. Lets Bucky control this, every time they do this, lets him be in charge.

 

Bucky pulls his fingers away and pushes Steve's underwear down to his thighs. His hot erection meets the cold air and it’s reprieve and torture at the same time. He breaks the kiss  as his body goes lax and rests his head on Bucky's shoulder to catch his breath. Bucky kisses the top of his head and pushes the underwear further down, a gesture for Steve to remove them.

 

Steve steps back from their embrace and looks up at Bucky. He knows it’s a weakness of his, when Steve looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes and that’s just what he does. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down gently as Bucky's eyes get darker. Bucky look predatory and Steve thrives in the way it makes him feel. His skin feels raw and on fire and his erection throbs and begs for touch. When Bucky's looking at him like this, Steve's sure he can come without touch, without a word, just from Bucky's gaze alone. He bends down, making sure to keep his eyes on Bucky as he does, and pushes the underwear down his legs. Bucky's gaze travels from his lips to his legs and focuses on the point where his length curves and creates a tent in the dress. Steve kicks the underwear to the side and starts to stand up when Bucky's voice stops him.

 

“The stockings too, Stevie.”

 

It’s deep and growly and Steve immediately obeys. He rolls down the stockings from each leg and kicks them off in opposite direction. As he straightens up, Bucky's standing close again, their bodies sharing the same air in the confined space. Despite the dress, Steve feels naked in front of Bucky, naked in a way no clothes could cover him, no doors could hide him.

 

But he covets the feeling, loves it, wants to feel it all the time.

 

Bucky bends down to kiss his neck, hands going around Steve's hips to hold tight. Steve loops his arms around Bucky's shoulders, holding on tight as his legs feel like they are going to give out. Bucky kisses down his long, pale neck, sucking gently but not leaving any marks.   


They’d both love to, but they can’t. It’ll raise questions as to which girl kissed Steve, would want to kiss Steve. But it’s not like Steve wants to kiss any girl either, he's kissing the guy every girl in Brooklyn wants to kiss.

 

Bucky's mouth dips lower, over his bobbing adams apple, over his clavicle and onto his collarbones. Bucky's licks a stripe along the length of it, mouth at the prominence of it. Bites it gently just to hear Steve whine. he does it to the other too, before making his way back to the clavicle, sucking the soft skin into his mouth and, lapping at the skin like he can’t get enough of its taste.

 

Steve's body rocks into the sensations, thrusts ever so gently every time the pleasure overwhelms him. Steve's free arousal seeks contact and it keeps being drawn to the bulge in Bucky's pants. But Bucky doesn’t let him thrust fully, doesn’t let him have the contact he seeks. He keeps Steve still with the arms on his waist and all Steve can do is whine and moan.

 

Bucky's hands move from Steve's hips, up his chest and rest over his nipples. The dress separates them but Bucky still seems to know exactly where they are. He places his palms over the sensitive buds and rubs maddeningly slow circles over them. Steve arches into the touch with a silent cry and paws at Bucky's arms to take at least his shirt off.

 

Bucky doesn’t oblige but he stops his movements. He raises his head from Steve's collarbone and looks Steve in the eye, licks his lips slowly as he takes in Steve's flushed cheeks and wide blown eyes.

 

“How badly do you want me, love?” he asks, voice low and deep as it goes straight to Steve's groin.

 

“So badly, Buck. Need you so bad.” He gasps at the same time Bucky pinches his nipples between his fingers.

 

 

Steve's body arches into the touch, jolts of arousal travelling all the way up and down his spine. The friction of the dress against his nipples was too much, too little and not enough at the same time. Bucky's touch was perfect, not too painful but not soft enough that Steve wouldn’t feel it. He moaned, loud enough for the neighbours to hear, but he couldn’t care less. Not when Bucky was treating him just right, giving him want he wanted.

 

Bucky pinched again, this time pulling them and twisting. Steve sobbed in pleasure, the touch almost enough to make him lose it, lose himself in it, come all over himself. Bucky watched his face intently, memorising every expression, every sound that Steve made. They had tonight to themselves, to make as much noise as they wanted, to do what they had always wanted. Tonight there was no keeping quiet, no holding back.

 

 

His hands fly to Steve's wig and he rips it off Steve's head, throws it far into their apartment. He runs his hands through Steve's blonde locks and fists his hair in his hands. He doesn’t pull, just holds on like he’s afraid Steve's gonna disappear soon and he's gonna be left alone. But Steve's not going anywhere and Steve wants Bucky to know this, needs him to understand it. So he does it the only way he knows how, he pulls Bucky in for a kiss, passionate and alluring.

 

It’s a messy kiss. Too much tongue and way too many teeth. It’s pain and pleasure and desperation rolled into one and midway through they both start crying.

 

The evening had been perfect, everything had been perfect yet in that moment they both felt the need to cry. Because it wasn’t a perfect evening for them. It hadn’t been Steve and Bucky who had a perfect evening, it was Stephanie and Bucky. It wasn’t a date that two men  who were in love went on, it was a date a man and his pretend ‘girlfriend’ went on. Bucky didn’t win Steve any bear nor did Steve win Bucky a chocolate bar. It wasn’t them, it was them pretending to be someone else. Someone entirely different.

 

 

This was what they both wanted, but not for one stolen night, not for one night in their long lives. They wanted this daily, wanted to treat each other to a good time every day, wanted to hold hands down the road, kiss under the stars and tease each other under the tables.

 

 

After tonight they wouldn’t be able to pretend either, won’t be able to go back to a life where this is not reality. They got a chance at a normal life today, a peek at what life could’ve been for them had they been born in a different world. To go back from here and pretend was not something they could and neither ask the other to do. They weren’t asking for much, just a chance to love each other, just a chance to live as themselves, just a moment to stop hiding, but alas to them it was not available.

 

They were just not meant to be in the eyes of society. Two men fallen prey to a horrible disease. Two men who ought to be killed for sullying the good name of their friends and family. Two men who weren’t ‘right’. Two men who deserved to get their brains scooped out.

 

 

What the society and the people didn’t know was that love was never wrong.

 

 

“It’s okay, Buck. It’s okay. We’re okay.” Steve murmured in between the kisses and felt more than saw Bucky nod. He griped Bucky's faced tightly and kissed him with all he had, all he was, trying to return the fire in Bucky's kisses with a fire of his own.

 

The kisses progressed as the tears cooled down. The desperation had gone but the arousal had not. Steve till felt every fibre of his body call out to Bucky and in return felt Bucky's need reverberating within him. He dragged his fingers down Bucky's face, around the width of his shoulders and down his muscular chest. He groped Bucky's pecs, the spoils of day-night toil, and moaned at the feel of them under his hands.

 

Bucky groaned into his mouth at the sensation and Steve wasn’t sure which one of them whined into the kiss later. As Steve swiped his thumbs over Bucky's nipple, Bucky suddenly spun around and pinned Steve to the nearest wall, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. His heart quickened at the display of dominance and he felt his cock leaking precome.

 

Bucky pulled back for a moment, his darkened eyes searching Steve's for any sign of discomfort, a silent question in his eyes. When Steve nodded, _I’m fine,_ Bucky surged back into a kiss. Their mouths clashed with a renewed arousal, a jolt of realisation as to what was to come. Bucky ran his hands down the back of Steve's dress, finding the zipper with ease and pulling it down immediately. The dress lay suspended on Steve's shoulders, the shoulders being what held the dress up.

 

Bucky pulled back from the kiss, looked deep into Steve's eyes and placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled back a little and placed his hands on Steve's shoulders. Looking into lust blown baby blues, he pushed the dress down the blonde’s arms.

 

Steve inhaled deeply as the dress slid down his body and pooled at his feet. His body was on display, naked and vulnerable as the day he was born and it churned a sense of embarrassment and anxiety in Steve's core. But the moment he saw the look of devotion in Bucky's  eyes, all his worries and shame disappeared. Because Bucky loved him, unhealthy body and all, and if Bucky could see something more in this body then so could Steve. If Bucky could love him with all his flaws, then Steve could too. Because even if he may not love himself as he is, he can love the person Bucky makes him feel like.

 

Bucky steps back into his personal space, getting closer till their bodies touch from the nose to their feet. The texture of Bucky's clothes on Steve's naked body is rough but it sends sparks of arousal through him. There is some symbolism here, of a display of vulnerability and trust and power, but its lost to Steve's lust addled mind. All he can see, feel, hear, smell and breathe is Bucky. All he knows is Bucky.

 

The brunette raises his hands but doesn’t touch Steve, keeps his hands suspended in mid-air, his warm breath condensing in the cold air between them.

 

“Tell me where to touch you, Stevie. Tell me how to make you feel good.” He whispers, taking Steve's hands in his own and guiding them towards his own body.

 

Steve takes a deep breath and places his own hands on his neck, feels the pulse thudding beneath his fingertips and quietly murmurs, “ _here_ ” _._

Bucky leans in, brushes his fingers around Steve's and places his lips where Steve's hands were. As Bucky's mouth descends on his neck, Steve pulls his hands back, holds on to Bucky's head as he peppers kisses to Steve's neck and the occasional swipe of his tongue. Steve moans quietly and arches his back slightly at the sensation, bares more for Bucky's mouth.  

 

Letting go of Bucky's head, he takes his hand further down his body and touches his stomach, Bucky's hands and mouth following. He guides his hands towards his nipples and Bucky's warm mouth embraces the hardened nipple. He draws his hands down his flanks and Bucky retraces the path with his hands and then his tongue. Steve shudders at the feeling of Bucky's tongue on his skin and the wet sensation on his hot body. He closes his eyes for a moment and guides Bucky up to kiss him.

 

As Bucky's tongue enters his mouth, he lets his hands fall and trace the inside of his thighs. He pulls back from Bucky with a wet sounds and lets his eyes follow the movements of his hands. Bucky does the same and with a loud whine, bats Steve's hands away. He places a chaste kiss to Steve's lips and kneels before the blonde.

 

He places both hands on Steve's knees and nudges them, an order to spread his legs which Steve readily obeys. As soon as he does, Bucky's hands find their way up his thighs, their touch feather soft and maddening on the sensitive skin. He whines high in his throat but Bucky refuses to be hurried. He traces every mole on the inside of his thigh with his hands and memories every freckle.

 

“Bucky… please.” Steve moans pathetically, his voice high pitched and scratchy.

 

Bucky takes mercy on him and leans forward, planting soft lips to even softer skin and licking up a stripe from Steve's knees to the juncture between his thigh and groin. Steve keeled at the action and almost lost his footing but Bucky kept him upright with a hand on his waist. Once he was sure Steve wouldn’t fall, the brunette licked at every freckle, lapped at every mole. He kissed and bit every inch of skin and reveled in the beautiful sounds Steve made above him.

 

When Steve couldn’t take more of Bucky's teasing, he trailed a finger down his length, down his balls and over his perineum to his hole. He stopped there, pressing his finger down gently and enjoying the hitch in Bucky's breath, before moaning “ _here Buck… touch me here. Make me feel good._ ”

 

Bucky nodded immediately and stood up. He picked up Steve in his arms and carried him down the hall into their bedroom, holding him close to his chest and  kissing every breath out of him.

 

_“Love you, Stevie. And I'm gonna show you just how much.”_

_***_

 

Little did they know, their prayers would come true, almost a life time later, in an entirely different century…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!!! You made it till the end..xD 
> 
> I'm sorry if it sucked ass, I'll try my best next time. Maybe I'll write a second part with just good old smut, complete what i started here or maybe a second date. Please comment and let me know which one you want to read...
> 
> Your Kudos and Comments are appreciated because I'm an attention whore...


End file.
